The Real Reason Sam Hates Sammy
by PookbearD
Summary: “Okay little brother, you have to admit, I have given you more than enough space on this issue. I think it is about time you spill the beans about this?” Dean asked while holding out his cell phone with the photo of Sam he had taken in the subway car.


**The Real Reason Sam Hates "Sammy"**

This is my first ever Supernatural FF. I would appreciate any and all feedback.

* * *

There wasn't much that Jessica knew about Sam. She didn't know about his nightmares. She didn't know about his family. She didn't know about the "family business". Of all these, the strangest thing she didn't know about, was one of the ways he paid for college. In fact, no one knew about this dirty little secret - not even Dean. Until the day they got on the subway.

* * *

Academic scholarships paid for a majority of the tuition and books, but Sam still needed money for housing and living expenses. Even with 2 part-time jobs, he still lacked some much needed cash flow.

Normally, if you could even call the life he led pre-Stanford normal, around the time he and Dean would be hitting the motel beds for some much needed sleep after an all night hunting expedition; he was opening Java Joe's Coffee Cart, situated next to the Stanford bookstore. Dean would get a kick out of his "girly" green apron and "cute" little nametag proclaiming him Barista "SAM".

This morning was no different, with the exception that since most students were off on Friday because of the holiday, foot traffic was virtually nil on this pre-dawn Monday morning; so Sam was perusing the local newspaper, when an ad caught his eye. As lame as it sounded, the award's prize would help him get his head above water and allow him to drop one of these crappy jobs and give him more time to devote to his studies and Jessica. Sam quickly tore the ad from the paper and pocketed it in his dress khaki's to review at a later time.

Now half a day later, while he was manning the phones at Pizza Palace, he rediscovered the ad while reaching into his pocket to locate a pen to take down a customer's to go order. He slid it out and laid it onto the counter next to the order pad. After he hung up the phone, he carefully opened the crumpled slip of paper and re-read the words that had been dancing in his head since 6 o'clock this morning:

"Local company seeks fresh-faced college kids for one-time commitment - $7,500 in scholarship money available for the right person. Call or e-mail for additional details."

Sam believed the old adage that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was, but that didn't keep him from allowing hope to flood his mind. He would e-mail them tonight after he got back to the apartment. Besides, Jessica would long be asleep by the time he drug himself up the stairs around 1 am. Sam was quickly coming to the realization that he couldn't maintain a full-time class load, 2 part-time jobs, study time, and a steady girlfriend, without someone or something getting the short end of the stick, when it came to his time and attention. He was afraid that Jessica was the one getting short-changed and he had to do something to bring that to a stop right now.

Just before passing out from exhaustion, Sam shot off a quick 3 sentence reply to the e-mail message in the advertisement and hit send. He crawled across the bed and collapsed into his pillow, face-down, with one arm slung across Jessica's midriff.

* * *

He couldn't believe it. After a brief e-mail exchange with the company, followed by them asking him to send them an image file (which he wasn't too sure about, but the company checked out with the Better Business Bureau), he was invited to participate.

He arrived promptly at 3 pm on Friday afternoon, skipping out on his History of Western Civilization class, at the company's offices in downtown Palo Alto. He was given some paperwork to fill out and told directions to the fifth floor studio. Once he got off the elevator, he was surrounded by bright lights, noise and people running back and forth in the immense top floor studio. He wasn't even sure where he was supposed to go, until a tall lanky guy, about 5 years older then he made his way through the crowds and introduced himself.

"Hello, Sam?"

"Yes, I'm Sam Winchester."

"It's great to finally meet you. I'm Devon Marshall, CEO of JustRight Photography. We appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to come in today."

"It's nice to finally put a face with a name, Mr. Marshall. Just don't tell anyone I had to ditch Western Civ class to make it today," Sam stated with a laugh.

"Please, call me Devon, and I wouldn't dare. Besides, from what you said in your e-mails, I am surprised you have been able to maintain such a hectic schedule for this long," Devon replied.

"Well it is starting to wear me down, which is one of the reasons I responded to your ad," Sam replied.

"We are certainly glad you did and could make it on such short notice. Let me show you to your chair," he stated and he led Sam through the crowd to a bank of mirrored chairs on the far wall.

"Please have a seat, Sam. This is Kathy Pollard; she will be your stylist. Kathy, I would like to introduce you to Sam Winchester, this year's SAMMY Award winner," Devon gushed.

"Hi Sam, it's great to meet you. Devon, you didn't tell me he had such lovely bone structure and luxurious hair. I don't think I will need to do very much work to get him camera ready," Kathy replied with a brief wink to Sam as she ran her hands through his gorgeous hair.

Sam blushed mildly and nodded, meekly accepting her compliment.

"Well, Sam, I leave you in Kathy's capable hands. Just e-mail me later on and let me know about your experience and we will arrange to get the check to you," Devon stated as he strode off.

"Ok, thanks Devon," Sam replied before turning back to Kathy.

"So, since you are already drop-dead gorgeous with killer hair, what do you think I need to do to get you ready for your photos?" Kathy inquiried of Sam.

"Uh, I don't know. I've never done anything like this before. I don't exactly have any idea what I am supposed to do," Sam answered honestly.

"You are joking, right?" Kathy stated with her mouth agape.

"Nope," Sam responded.

"Okay, well let me give you the nickel tour and fill you in on what is expected of you," Kathy stated.

"I would appreciate that," Sam commented.

* * *

Exactly 2 weeks later, Sam received the scholarship check in the amount of $7,500 and deposited it into his checking account. He also quit his job at Java Joe's, as he was never really a morning person anyway and besides, he was making more money at Pizza Palace when you counted his tips. Jessica was thrilled to have him sleep-in with her in the mornings, which was always her favorite time of day with Sam.

He had all but forgotten about the experience, when here he was, face-to-face with the results, standing on a subway car in Chicago, with his brother staring between him and the poster.

"Sammy!?! Dude, is that you?" Dean asked.

"Dammit Dean!!! It's Sam, and just drop it, okay?" Sam begged.

"I mean, when, how, I just, what?" Dean asked flabbergasted.

Without another word, Sam walked to the far end of the subway car and sat down in a seat closest to the window. Once Dean stopped staring at the poster and re-established his composure, he followed Sam and sat in the seat opposite his little brother.

"You want to tell me what the hell that is?" Dean demanded.

"Nope," Sam mumbled with his head so far down all Dean could see was his bangs and lips. Sam continued to stare a hole in the right knee of his jeans and ignore Dean.

Dean could tell that his brother didn't really want to talk about it right now, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't bug the hell out of him later about it. Dean proceeded to get up, walk back to the subway car door and pull his camera phone out of his pocket. He snapped a quick picture of it and made a mental note to himself to ask Sam about it later.

Sam was so glad that Dean hadn't pushed him for more information because honestly, Sam didn't know what to even say about it. It was probably the only thing other than his fear of clowns that he was still embarrassed of.

* * *

"Okay little brother, you have to admit, I have given you more than enough space on this issue. I think it is about time you spill the beans about this?" Dean asked while holding out his cell phone with the photo of Sam he had taken in the subway car the week before.

After briefly looking over at the cell phone in his brother's hand, Sam turned back around and continued to stare out of the Impala's passenger window at the scenery flying by. Man, Iowa was flat. If it wasn't for all the corn, the state would be a good 3 feet closer to sea level Sam believed.

After a few more moments of silence, "What do you want to know?" came out as a mere whisper from Sam. If Dean wasn't so focused on driving and waiting for Sam to say something, he would have missed it.

"Start at the beginning," was Dean's reply.

"Okay, it happened while I was at Stanford. I needed money. I had a full class load and was working 2 part-time jobs. Between dating Jess and all the school work, I barely had time for sleep. My visions started around the same time and I just didn't know how to handle everything coming at me at once," Sam began.

"Makes sense," Dean urged him to continue.

"Anyway, I saw an ad in the paper that I responded to and they picked me. I'd never done anything like that before or since," Sam added. "It only took a few hours and a couple of weeks later; I got a check for $7,500. I was able to quit one of my part-time jobs and concentrate more on my studies. I forgot all about it, until last week."

"They paid you $7,500 for that? You have got to be kidding me?" Dean replied in shock.

"Yep. And after this conversation, you are the only person, living or dead, that knows about it," Sam stated.

'You mean you never even told Jessica?" Dean asked.

"Nope."

"Wow, I don't know what to say. I guess I should be touched that you shared this with me. I think I should pull over right now and we should hug on this. What do you think Sammy?" Dean said while deftly lifting one eyebrow mocking Sam.

"You know what man, screw you. And stop calling me Sammy. I never want to hear it ever again. Especially now," Sam huffed while turning around in his seat to once again stare out the window. "I wish we never would have seen the poster. I knew you or someone else would eventually see it and give me hell about it. I guess I was just hoping for a little understanding. . ."

"What do you mean by not wanting me to call you Sammy, especially now?" Dean inquired.

"Forget I said anything," Sam stated.

"Oh no, you are not getting out of this that easily, now spill," Dean fired back while switching his line of sight between the highway and his suddenly very quiet little brother.

"FINE. The picture was part of the SAMMY awards campaign." Sam shot back.

"What the hell are the SAMMY awards? Something for people named Sam?" Dean chuckled.

"No you nin-come-poop, SAMMY stands for Scholar-Athlete Milk Mustache-of-the-Year Award. Happy now?" Sam finished as he whirled around in his seat so hard he almost slammed his head into the window.

Dean sat stunned, as if Sam had thrown a right hook. He didn't even know what to say. After about 10 more miles of highway were behind them, Dean finally regained the power to speak.

"You mean to tell me that you won $7,500 for letting somebody paint a fake milk mustache on that peach fuzz face of yours and take your picture?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, something like that," Sam mumbled.

"Dude, that totally kicks ass. But wait a minute, is that why you don't like me calling you Sammy?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yes, because the name of the awards were the SAMMY awards and every time anyone calls me Sammy, I can't help but think about the time in my life where I was so desperate for money that I whored myself out to promote milk drinking in America," Sam stated with a slight smirk.

"Dude, what did they use to get the mustache to look so perfect?" Dean asked excitedly.

"Elmer's glue and water, if you can believe that," Sam answered.

"So my little bro is a male model now?" Dean continued.

"I wouldn't go that far, Dean," Sam added.

"How come we have never come across your milk laced mug in all our travels?" Dean stated.

"Because they promised to never display the picture on the west coast, and so far, we have been lucky," Sam said while turning back around in his seat to face the windshield.

"Hey Sammy, you know that I am never going to stop calling you Sammy, right?" Dean said while quirking his eyebrows.

"I figured as much. How about we stop and get something to eat. I am starving," Sam attempted to change the subject.

"Oh, dude, I have the greatest idea. Let's stop at Steak n' Shake. I don't know why but I am totally jones'n for a milkshake." Dean laughed.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

The End

* * *

A/N: The SAMMY awards really do exist. I read something about them and just came up with this crazy idea. Please let me know what you think. 


End file.
